Finding Gray
by SugarQuillCandy
Summary: Blaise Zabini, the muggle-born who was sorted into Slytherin is haunted both in real life and in dreams by "the red-headed boy". What will result?
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I definitely would not be writing fanfictions on the computer, but gallivanting across the world signing autographs and winning numerous book awards. But seeing as I am writing fanfics on the computer and not signing any autographs, I clearly do not own HP.

Author comments: Well guys, all I have to say is that I really hope you like this story because it's really a difficult one to write, and kind of unconventional because stories about Blaise are more uncommon-but I really wanted space to characterize my own character, and she was the one to use! And yes, Blaise is a girl in the story. Not a guy. And she does fall in love… but with who, you'll have to read on and find out… Enjoy!

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**Finding Gray**

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_"A chill goes through her, for she feels it in her bones, the future is now beginning. By the time it is over, it will be the past, and she doesn't want to be the only one left to tell their story."_

_-In the Time of the Butterflies, Julia Alvarez

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**Chapter One: Memories and Dreams**

The girl was a piece of satin cloth, so delicate, so fragile, pure, simple, beautiful, elegant, innocent, and soft. The kind of satin that is worn once, or maybe a lucky two times, then by some accident is stained by an unfortunate spill or unexpected mark. The neat, silky white that had moved like waves marred by the raining of some disfigurement.

The girl was a clear blue sky, the kind one thinks is "perfect". No wisp of white, no path of gray or darkness sown into the ocean blue carpet. The blue sky that looks like a hard surface; however, when closely examined, seems to stretch beyond, until the analyzer questions whether or not their eyes will ever see the heavens. All of a sudden a cloud appears, and each cloud proceeding it seems darker than the previous. This continues until the sky is coated in a granite surface, and the heavens finally open up and the torrential downpour leaks onto the Earth.

The girl was a pure, white dove, with clean-colored feathers that gracefully molded into the air, seeming to glide on the air as a swan glides on water. She was the dove that was shot down by a fiery death that sliced through the air ominously and mercilessly. Maybe the dove was mistaken for a different creature, but all that matters in the end is that the bullet finds its home in the shape of a dove, taking the creature down and with it, her innocence.

The first time Blaise Zabini stepped into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she was just a simple girl who lived in a seemingly carefree world. However, this tranquil perspective faded away the second she stepped up to that clairvoyant hat…

"_Zabini, Blaise," called a dour looking woman standing next to a weathered brown stool and a frayed black hat that looked like it had seen one too many years._

_Blaise was jolted with nerves that ran, tingling up and down her spine and spreading through her feet and arms. What were the names of the four houses again? Blaise could not remember, and she was shaking in her shoes. She tremblingly stepped up to the hat and placed it apprehensively on her head. _

_**"Well, this certainly is a mysterious batch we have today. Zabini… Zabini… hmm... That's a rather new name. I see that you have immense loyalty towards those you love- an excellent Hufflepuff quality. It is difficult to determine your past, it's very foggy… but wait! I see something…Ah, yes, this is very interesting. What I see is-"**_

_The hat halted, and remained quiet._

_"What? What do you see?" Blaise asked fervently in her head. _

_**"That I cannot say, I now realize- it is for you to discover," was the laconic reply, and the hat's voice sounded sad, almost regretful and apologetic. "But now it makes sense, the loose ends have tied together and someday you will come to understand. Do not forget to remember your past."**_

_**"SLYTHERIN!" **The hat boomed, but instead of being stopped by thunderous applause coming from the Slytherin table, the Sorting Hat's voice echoed and bounced off the cavernous walls. It continued resonating inside Blaise's head. _

_Hushed whispers slowly filled the Great Hall, creeping up on Blaise like ants making their way along the ground. Why wasn't anyone clapping? Why was no house cheering for her, why was nobody happy to have Blaise Zabini? She felt terrified, she wanted to go home, crawl in bed, and have her mother tell her everything was alright. Blaise just knew she was going to burst into tears, she felt the hard rock in her throat. What was wrong with her? Was this a nightmare? If so, why did it seem so long? _

_Just then the harsh looking teacher standing next to the stool took the hat off Blaise's head and helped her scoot down off of the chair. _

_"Slytherin table is over there," she said softly, pointing to Blaise's far left. Something told Blaise that this professor never spoke softly. _

_Blaise nodded, and agitatedly walked to her house table, shaking all the while. _

_When she got there, one look at the table and Blaise wanted to run away. Her toes itched with the longing to run far, as far away from the Slytherin house as possible. She didn't feel very well either, light-headed and dizzy, slightly nauseous. The people at the table of her new house looked like piranhas that just spotted new prey. They had a fascinating combination of anger and glee, just how Blaise imagined the villains in her favorite fairytales looked. She cautiously slipped onto the end of a bench, avoiding all of their eyes. _

_Mealtime was nothing short of lonely, terrifying, or tear-inducing. Even though Hogwarts food was delicious, Blaise would have given anything to be back home with her mother and father, eating sweet rolls and laughing at whatever show was on television. Blaise mainly kept her focus on her plate, trying to avoid the glittering eyes always turned towards her. One time she did look up, perhaps searching for a single kind face among the Slytherins. _

_Her eyes did not wander far when they spotted a boy that looked to be about her age. He had pale, blond hair and sharp features on a pointed face. As soon as she took his looks in, his face turned to catch hers. He was wearing a cruel smirk, and his eyes sparkled with malice when their eyes met. Blaise immediately turned away and focused on her plate once more, frightened at the look in that boy's eyes. _

_She was joined a minute later by the same boy, who stood leering over her, casting a shadow on her plate, thus making her turn around. _

_His eyes, upon further inspection, where a cool blue-grey, and they had an air about them that was vaguely familiar. _

_He held out his hand to her, a bright smirk drawn across his skin. She shook his hand. _

_"So you're a Slytherin also. Congratulations," he said without a trace of enthusiasm. "Hopefully you will soon learn your place in Slytherin, remember not to interfere with your superiors." This was said with a slightly tight squeeze of hands. _

_Blaise was scared now, and she tried to remove her hand from his tight grip. He noticed this and looked down at their clasped hands. Blaise watched his eyes travel from their hands to her wrist. _

_The boy's eyes widened a fraction and he looked up at her with probing, searching eyes. Blaise turned red and looked away. She had always been ashamed of her scar. Her parents told her she got it as a child after having a nasty accident with a knife, but it seemed odd that one should receive a perfect straight line spanning the length of one's wrist, and a small "x" intersecting the line at it's dead center. Blaise had always been slightly suspicious about where she got it. _

_The smirk on the boys face had been wiped off as if by an eraser. He was slightly pale, and had stopped pumping her hand. _

_"I'm Draco Malfoy," was all he said, before turning and walking off. _

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She walked down the descending stone stairs, her hands shivering as the cold stone railing dug into her flesh, freezing her body. There was a man at the bottom of the steps and next to him a young boy, who appeared to be pleading with the man for something. The man yelled, but she could not hear what he said; he raised his wand towards the little boy, but she had no idea what spell came out, because not only was there no sound, there was a flash of blue-grey eyes, and the stairs she had been standing on formed a slide, and she was sliding downwards and further downwards. When the slide stopped, she was crashing through air. The crashing stopped.**

**She was suspended in mid air.**

**And before she had time to revel in this mystery…**

**A hand reaches down to pull her up, she doesn't know where to, but she grabs it anyway. The boy is freckled with hair like a bloodred sun and his eyes are a sea of emotions. All of a sudden, there is another flash and she is on a cold, tone floor again, only she is holding someone's hand. She squeezes the hand, it doesn't squeeze back. The palm is really cold and she knows the person is dead. When she looks down at her wrist, her scar is gone, it's dead, it's been erased, what's happened to it?**

**There is a blood-curdling scream, and it won't stop. It's turning colder and colder and the air is leaving her body, though she doesn't know why. The scream isn't stopping, she is at freezing point, and then she realizes that she is the one screaming. She hears voices calling someone's name. Wait. It's her name.**

**Then she sees the beautiful eyes again, the ones that are swimming in emotions, the eyes belonging to the boy with bloodred hair as bright as the sun with freckles smattering his pale skin.**

**She leans towards him.**

**Then she sees her dead parents.**

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Blaise was jolted awake, her heart thundering like the pounding of a hundred horse hooves. Her hair was plastered to her forehead, and she felt like she couldn't breathe, she was so hot. 

It was then she was aware of her surroundings. Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Blustrode were sitting on her bed, looking terrified through and through.

"Blaise, what happened?" Pansy looked at her with concern etched in her face.

"You were screaming for about five minutes straight!" Millicent told her. "We were about to go wake Draco."

Blaise was still out of breath. "I…I just had a nightmare."

Pansy and Millicent just nodded. When you were a Slytherin, you did not ask questions about deep and personal issues. It was not only tactful, it was logical and way to avoid cutting memories and hurt.

"I'm fine now," Blaise added.

"Alright then," Pansy said, handing her a glass of water. "Good-night," and with a final worried glance towards Blaise, she walked to her own bed.

"Are you sure you're fine?" Millicent asked. "I mean, you look like death."

"Yes, yes, I'll be fine. I just need to settle down."

With that, Millicent walked off also.

Blaise tried to calm herself. She tried to cool herself down from the heat that would not leave her body. She did not want to go to sleep again, was so afraid she would see her parents again, afraid she would be haunted by the two people she loved more than all the world.

She decided to take a walk, if not around the school, then at least down to the common room. Blaise slid out of her bed and placed her feet in her slippers. Leaving the dormitory, she closed the door with a soft chink.

When she had first arrived at Hogwarts, Blaise did not see how the Slytherin common room could be in any way comforting. It had a harsh interior, decorated in sinister greens and thawing silvers. But, like everything else about the Slytherin house, the common room grew on her. The colors became warmer and the acute edges softened, beginning to feel obtusely comfortable.

Slytherins were always seen as evil and power-hungry. Blaise was neither of those; she was not sure why she was placed in a house like Slytherin as opposed to Hufflepuff. Blaise was kind and maybe too soft to belong in her house. However, she did know that many Slytherins were often misunderstood. Just as Gryffindors believed Slytherins were everything that is bad, Slytherins had been hurt by Gryffindors in the past. Blaise was saddened by the void between the two houses, because it hindered the blossoming of what could have been powerful leaders at Hogwarts. But prejudice goes deeper than just black and white, fire and ice; it is an idea that turns into a belief, and a belief so strong that nobody can persuade an individual against it.

The common room fire was low, and the crackling of wood inside it had a calming effect on Blaise. She sat in one of the rich, green armchairs and stared into the fire.

Who was that red-haired boy she saw in her dreams? And what about the man and the little boy? Who was the dead person whose hand was colder than ice? Blaise always had dreams like these, nightmares that woke her up sweating and screaming. They had started five years ago, and since then she either had no dreams or nightmares. Almost all of the characters in these nightmares were unrecognizable or unfamiliar. Maybe people from her shrouded past or people she had yet to meet. Who knew?

It was when she got nostalgic that Blaise found herself questioning. There was this blank space in her childhood that she could never figure out. Maybe everyone had it, Blaise did not know, but this space seemed transparent. She knew something was there, yet she couldn't see what it was, despite the clarity. It felt all wrong, and Blaise had never liked it.

Remembering her childhood was like rolling dice, because she never knew how she would react to it. Tonight though, as memories of hot apple cider and storytime filled her brain, and the aftertaste of cookies and milk was fresh in her mouth, Blaise snuggled into the armchair, and surrendered to sleep…

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Reviews would definitely be good! I'm going to try and update this story once a week on a regular basis, and I'll get back to you next week about what day it'll usually be on. Thanks!! Review, because it makes me feel all happy inside! 


	2. The Beginning

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot.  
Author Notes: Here's Chapter Two... I'm having issues with my chaptermanager and editing the story, because I'm not very used to using it yet, but oh well...Hope you enjoy! Oh yes, there's also a little bit of Ron coming up! And Draco!

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Finding Gray

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_We are such stuff  
As dreams are made on and our little life  
Is rounded with a sleep..."_

_-The Tempest, William Shakespeare  
(IV, i, 156-157)_

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Chapter Two: The Beginning

The dreamless void in which Blaise was embedded in was shaking, something pulling her out of her sleep.

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a pointy nose. And then noticed a slightly curved mouth and pale, blond hair. Then Blaise looked into eyes that closely resembled her own.

She shrieked and jumped, making the rather uncomfortable armchair tip back on its heels and rock forward again.

"Whoa, whoa, Blaise, it's just me," Draco Malfoy drawled amusedly as he steadied the teetering armchair.

"Well bloody hell Draco, you expect me to know that when I wake up and all I see is this big, looming face?" Blaise said exasperatedly.

"Well, who else is as good-looking as I am?" He teased.

"Oh, believe me, I could name a few and then some," she tossed back.

He made a small pout.

Blaise just laughed in his face.

"Well, come on sleeping beauty," he drawled. "Better get dressed. Don't want to miss the first day breakfast banquet."

"Alright, alright. I'll be back in a second."

Blaise walked up to her dormitory, where she then changed into fresh, crisp robes and tied her light brown hair up into a ponytail. Studying herself in the mirror, she looked at her eyes and shivered. Draco and she were reflections of each other's eyes, both pairs blue-grey in color and glittering. Usually, anybody could read Blaise like an open book, but she was working on that. Draco was always much more difficult to read, because he could close off the rest of his face whenever he pleased. However, one cannot make the eyes blank, and Blaise knew in her gut what emotions Draco was having at any given time.

It was eerie, the was both of their eyes sparkled and crinkled when they genuinely laughed, how both eyes seemed to pulse when they were angry or frustrated.

Fed up with thinking about their disturbing similarities, Blaise walked down to the common room, where Draco was waiting for her.

Upon entering the Great hall, Draco put on his well-developed smirk and flaunted his swaggering walk, causing every eye to follow his movements. It was slightly obnoxious anda littleembarrassing to have everyone watching her as she walked with him, but there was nothing she could do about it.

Blaise took a seat beside Millicent and across from Draco.

"Just imagine," Millicent commented, "today is our last first day here at Hogwarts."

"I cannot _wait_ to get out of here," Pansy told them. "One more year and I would have cracked. This place is infested with Mudbloods and muggle-lovers."

The muggle comments and barbs her friends constantly made did not offend Blaise. She was used to it; besides, hadn't she had enough of anything to do with muggles since her parents died? The orphanage was the worst part about it. On the contrary, Blaise agreed with her fellow Slytherins on some points. Wizards who interacted with muggles were just setting themselves up for conflict.

"I agree," Draco said, condescendingly flipping his gaze over the Great Hall. "If I have to look at one more Gryffindor, I might as well perform an Avada Kedavra on myself."

"Here, here," Pansy agreed. "I'd rather be at home than in a school with a lot of good-goodies who think they're better than us. And wanting to go home is saying something," she added as an afterthought.

Blaise suddenly felt shy, but she also felt that she was obligated to say something. "I wouldn't mind staying here as long as I could," she said quietly.

The group went quiet and stopped grumbling. Blaise felt put on the spot and knew she was sending the other three on guilt trips, but she had to say something.

"We're sorry Blaise," Millicent said after clearing her throat in an attempt to make her voice sound softer.

"It's alright…" she muttered. "I didn't mean to make the rest of you guilty. It's just that I told the truth: I wouldn't mind staying here…It's not like there is anywhere else to go but back to the orphanage."

The looks on their faces were so sad and apologetic that Blaise wished she had kept a cap on it for once. Obviously she had more regret-inducing power then she gave herself credit for. It always happened- the others would start complaining about this or that, she would tell them her opinion, and they melted like butter on hot toast. Somehow, Blaise's life situation made them soft-hearted towards her.

Blaise did not know why, because they had experienced things in their lives that were just as bad, if not worse, than anything she had gone through. Millicent's father was always on her case, beating her if the slightest action she made went against his wishes. The Parkinson couplewere practically Death Eaters, tyrants of doing the Dark Lord's wishes without realistically having a Dark Mark branded on their arms. Of course she knew all about Draco's family, after all, who didn't? One of the Dark Lord's closest servants, Lucius didn't have the patience for anyone who got in his way, his own son included.

Blaise was raised in a small, loving family in a small, pretty house. Her friends lived in massive, forlorn mansions with families that were powerfully versed in the Dark Arts and had torn relationships with their family members. Millicent, Pansy, and Draco had it worse off than Blaise did, and yet she was still the only person to strike sympathy in their hearts of stone.

Blaise honestly thought that life should have worn away the hardness of their hearts, but the difficulties just added stone on top of stone. For Blaise, every tragedy melted the ice, softened her even more. By now she thought her heart was a puddle of mush, smashed up by a spatula or thrown in a blender.

Her reverie of thoughts was broken as the schedules for the new year were passed out. Hers consisted of N.E.W.T Potions first, lunch, and following that was N.E.W.T Herbology.

"Not too bad for a first day," she commented. "Potions and Herbology. How about you guys?"

They all had Potions together, and only she and Millicent had Herbology together. Draco was going to Ancient Runes in the afternoon, while Pansy had Divination.

Sixth and Seventh years took less courses than in previous years. This was partly because some failed to receive the appropriate O.W.Ls to apply for a specific course, and partly because the work load of these two years was enormous. Even though students took all of their classes with their House and another House, not all of their fellow housemates were taking the same course. Blaise often wondered how the school organized their schedules to fit so many students' individual needs, but she had a suspicion that magic played a principle role.

After breakfast, Pansy, Millicent, and Blaise all headed down to the dungeons for Potions, while Draco caught up with some other friends.

"Do you think I should ask Theo Nott to the first Hogsmeade weekend or not?" Millicent asked them as they walked. "I mean, it could look a little quick, you know, since it's only the first day of school. Maybe it'll seem like I've been thinking of him all summer. Even though I have been thinking of him all summer, I don't want him to know that."

"I think you should just ask him," Pansy replied.

"Besides, if he does think you have been thinking of him all summer, he should be flattered," Blaise put in.

"Well, I don't know," Millicent answered. "What if he thinks it's gross though? Like I'm stalking him?"

"Why would any guy think it's gross when a girl thinks about him?" Pansy asked.

Millicent stopped walking and looked down at her feet. "Well, I don't know. I mean, I'm not all confident like you are Pansy. Well, I may look like I am, but really, I don't feel that way."

"Oh come on Mill! That's a load of dung!" Pansy protested. "Why wouldn't you-"

Millicent cut her off and barreled on. "I'm not tiny like Blaise either, and I'm not as nice as she is. I'm not pretty, at least I don't see it, and I swing my arms like a monkey when I walk. I feel so awkward and gawky and then I have all of these stupid bruises all over from my dam father!" Her voice cracked at the end, and Blaise knew it was all downhill from there.

Pansy turned to Blaise with eyes wide as saucers, and Blaise knew Pansy was no good when it came to comforting people. Blaise immediately stepped into action, and sat Millicent down against the corridor wall.

"Hey Mill? I know you think all of these things, but they aren't true. Would I ever lie to you?" She asked Millicent, who shook her head. "Okay, then I'm going to tell you how I see you, alright? I think you are a beautiful person because you don't accept stupid crap from people. You hold your head high no matter how you feel- and that's confidence. It's one of your quirks, swinging your arms, and you don't look like a monkey in the least bit. And you are beautiful, just because you are not tiny," Blaise finished.

Pansy nodded, "Besides, we love you the way you are, and if you ever change, we'll chop your head off."

Millicent grinned wryly. "Not if I sock you in the face first."

"There's our lovely Milly," Pansy said playfully. "We'd better get to class. As lenient as Snape is, he does tend to get rather moody whenever we're late,"she remarked.

"Or maybe that's because we share a class with the Gryffindors," Pansy said.

The girls barely made it to the Potions dungeon before Snape did, hustling into their long-time seats. The door opened with a bang and closed with a solid snap, leaving the students with no guesses as to who had just entered the classroom.

"Welcome to Seventh year N.E.W.T Potions," Snape said icily. I expected some of you to be enrolled in this course, while others I suppose met the requirements with an excessive amount of divine intervention."

He emphasized his last bit of words by directing a vulture-like gaze towards the Gryffindors, who clearly looked like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

"This course is not only a continuation of your Sixth Year N.E.W.T Potions, but cumulative of your previous years at Hogwarts. In addition to brewing dangerous potions, there will be an ongoing, year-long project in which you and a partner shall be extensively studying and concocting a difficult potion that I will assign you to. You must, in addition, find and brew a counter potion."

He paused mid-speech for dramatic effect and picked up a sheet of parchment in a slow, almost sinister way.

"As such, seeing as I highly doubt any pairs you form yourselves will be efficient, I will be assigning the pairs," Snape finished with a slightly cruel smile.

Blaise inwardly groaned and her stomach flipped over. She did not think that the arrival of Voldemort at the school this moment would have been worse than the fact that Snape was assigning them in pairs.

Of course. Pairs of Gryffindors and Slytherins.

Blaise was aware that Snape believed assigning Gryffindor and Slytherin pairings would be amusing to the Slytherins. The only problem was, for people like herself, the prospect of attempting to cooperate with a Gryffindor was nothing short of daunting. Most of them immediately branded her as evil, ascheming person who should be removed from the face of the Earth before she Avada Kedavra'ed a million people. That's what they thought of all Slytherins after all. Blaise would have thought the image of her casting an Unforgivable was almost comical if she wasn't outraged by the Gryffindor's automatic assumptions.

"Tomorrow I shall inform you of your partner, but as for now…"

_Great, _Blaise thought. _Now my misery is prolonged. _

The rest of the class period passed without notable event, and by the time of lunch, Blaise was already wishing the day would end. Why couldn't Snape have just given them their partner assignments today?

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Herbology was also relatively uneventful, besides recieiving a whole weeks worth of homework that was due in three days time. Blaise had to stay after and inquire after two unfamiliar flowering lilies that apparently contained the essence of a unicorn in their petals, creating a natural purifier. 

Blaise trudged back to the castle alone. She could already tell this year was going to be stressful. Only two classes and she had five hours' worth of work that she wanted to get done tonight, so tomorrow was free for the work she would inevitably receive for tomorrow's classes.

She decided to quickly visit the library to check out a book she needed for her Potions homework. On her way to the Great Hall for dinner, she turned a corner and blindly walked right into a boy walking the opposite direction.

Books and parchment flew into the air in a flutter, and the force of the slam knocked Blaise to the floor.

"Aw Merlin…" the boy muttered. "I'm really sorry, I just wasn't looking where I was going and…"

He offered her his hand, and just as she was about to accept it,he looked her in the eyes and she looked at him. Both seemed to make an immediate connection. Blaise recognized the boy as a Gryffindor, and she was well aware he knew she was a Slytherin.

That was all either needed. As she scampered to her feet, he stepped back and raked his hand anxiously through his vibrant red hair. She placed his face next to the name Ron Weasley, Potter's best friend and partner in crime. Draco was always complaining about him, how could Blaise not remember? He was about as famous as Potter was, and she hadn't realized it.

Not that it mattered who he was. What he was- that was the only relevant issue at the moment.

It was too bad, he had seemed genuinely sorry and nice- offering a hand to help her up. She would never have guessed that Ron really was a Gryffindor if she hadn't already known.

He looked at Blaise through narrow, suspicious eyes for a minute. When she defensively glared back, he seemed to come to an inward conclusion and stooped to pick up his books. Blaise did the same, willing her hands to move as quickly as possible.

Her heart leapt to her throat when they both reached for the same book, each thinking it was their own.

Ron glared at her. "That's mine," he said defiantly.

She then realized that the book was a Transfiguration textbook, a class she wasn't taking, and that he was right.

"I'm sorry," Blaise said with a bit of biting sarcasm. "I wasn't trying to steal it," she huffed.

Ron snatched the book away and tossed it in his book bag. He stood up, rifled a hand through his bright red hair again, and walked away.

It took Blaise a second to realize her palms were sweaty and her heart was pounding. She hated one-on-one confrontations with Gryffindors, they scared the devil out of her. Other Slytherins took it as a chance to mock their enemies, but Blaise was far too shy and far too sweet to be so bold.

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Please review! Constructive criticism would be awesome! 


	3. Crushes and Potions

Disclaimer: Once again, nothing is mine.  
Author Notes: Well, here is the third chapter of the story! I'm thinking about updating every Friday, although it might change to Sundays... I can't be sure. I have final exams coming up in a few weeks time, so I might not be very consistent for a while.

**Thanks for my first three reviews- **Mat Glue, Snickerdoodles4u, and Mio Granger. It made my day to get your opinions on my story and to know that people are reading it! Anybody that hasn't reviewed, please do!

Enjoy!

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**Finding Gray**

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"_**These are not men like us**, strange beasts with bodies that shine like the sun and weapons that spout fire and thunder. They prowl the earth like ravenous wolves, consuming everything in their path."_

_-From the Disney movie Pocahontas_

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Chapter Three: Crushes and Potions

Ron chanced a glance behind him as he stalked off awkwardly. The Slytherin he recognized as Blaise was still kneeling on the floor retrieving her scattered school books.

Ron almost felt guilty for not helping her. He should have been looking where he was going- then he could've just walked by her without sparing her a glance. Instead he had been reading over his Care of Magical Creatures assignment, wondering whether or not he would even be able to read about so many animals within the course of 24 hours. Anyways, Ron felt slightly guilt-ridden. After all, he had knocked her down- even if it was accidentally. But even if he had wanted to help her up, something in her eyes had told him that if he came any closer she might hex him into oblivion, so Ron had kept his distance. Besides, Blaise was a Slytherin. She wouldn't have accepted his help in the first place.

Even though Ron had not missed the look of fear that filled her eyes for a fraction of a second when they realized who the other was, but thatlook had shifted into one of defiance. Also, she acted sarcastic and superior. Ron would not have expected anymore from a Slytherin. It was in their nature.

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Blaise was left winded by her run-in with Ron Weasley, because no sooner had he departed that she noticed his bright red-hair, similar in shade to the hair on the red-headed boy in her dream. Were they the same two people? She had no clue, and this discovery took her to the point of exhaustion.

What did everything mean? Why were her dreams always so symbolic? Couldn't she have those nice, normal dreams about swimming in cauldrons or strolling into class naked? Of course, the latter would be humiliating in reality, but everybody had those kinds of dreams. Why was she so different?

Blaise made her way down to the Great Hall for dinner. The halls were deserted for the most part, since everyone was downstairs filling their empty stomachs.

Upon her arrival at the Slytherin table, she noticed that both Millicent and Pansy were absent. Raising an inquiring eyebrow at Draco, whom she had sat across from, she dished up some delicious looking pot roast and mashed potatoes.

"Millicent is in bed, she's not feeling so well," Draco informed her. "And Pansy is in detention."

"Detention? Already?" Blaise was surprised.

"Yep. The girl works fast, what else can I say?" He said, with a hint of pride.

"What teacher did she torment today?"

"McGonagall," Draco replied with a grin. "Apparently, she said something to Mudblood Granger, and McGonagall overheard. Everyone knows that Granger is her favorite, so… hence the reason Pansy isn't here."

Blaise didn't say anything and tried to block out the annoying, persistent voice inside her that blatantly screamed_ "You're a mudblood too, just the same as her!"_

As much as Blaise thought Draco was unfair to her when he used thelabel "mudblood", she was tired of chastising him and making her friends feel guilty. It made them feel bad and her singled out, so why did she even attempt correcting them? Sometimes, that irrational, rude part of herself got angry with her because she was supposed to be used to the term by now. _Seven years Blaise, seven. You should know they don't mean to hurt you. _

But it still reminded her of who she really was.

"So, how were your first classes?" Draco asked, changing the topic.

"Fine, for the most part," Blaise said as nonchalantly as she could manage.

He knew her better than that. "But…?" He pressed.

Blaise sighed and wished she possessed the ability to wipe the emotions off her face the way Draco could. He saw right through her, and now she felt like a baby pouring out her worries and anticipations.

"But… I'm nervous about Potions."

When she didn't elaborate on anything, he gestured for her to go on.

"I'm just…I'm just nervous about working with a Gryffindor for this project he's assigning us."

Draco nodded. "I thought you would be."

Blaise looked at him suspiciously. "What do you mean by that?"

"Blaise, don't take it the wrong way. I meant that it's just part of your personality. Whereas I would be looking forward to pairing up witha measly Gryffindor because of the general deriding and torturing that would ensue, you would be more likely to be apprehensive about it because of those exact reasons."

"Well, you thought right. As sad as it is, I'm scared out of my mind. A whole _year_ Draco! And I have to spend time _alone_ with a Gryffindor!" Now Blaise was gushing out every worry. "I mean, you know how I am… and they're going to judge me the wrong way, of course. I'm just so nervous and…" She was wringing her hands now and fidgeting with her napkin.

Draco looked at her steadily for a second or two.

"Don't worry. I'll kill whoever your partner is if they threaten or hurt you in any form," he declared boldly.

Blaise cracked a weak smile.

"Let's see..." he said, and ran through a list of things he could do to a Gryffindor, many of which were bloody, crude, or evil in general.

"You remind me of a big brother, you know," she remarked after he was finished listing his plans and ideas for creative Gryffindor hexing.

He stopped smiling at her and gave a short laugh that sounded forced. "I've got to go," he muttered abruptly. "Just remembered I need to get a book from the library before I forget." He stood up and strode away from the table.

Blaise frowned. Draco was so confusing. She recalled the days when she thought she was in love with him. Third year, thirteen years old, when boys and girls started discovering that the opposite sex wasn't inflicted with those imaginary monsters commonly referred to as "cooties". Blaise remembered the nervousness eating away at her stomach, interfering with her ability to speak to him. She recalled glancing at Draco about every two seconds. She had thought she was in love, fully and completely, except that she wasn't. Draco never returned the feelings. Instead, he shot them down.

_

* * *

Blaise would never forget the day she and Draco had been strolling back down to the Slytherin common room. She had been so ecstatic that she had him all to herself, all alone, and felt a surge of confidence. This wash of self-assurance was what compelled her to profess her feelings to him, something so uncharacteristic for sweet, shy Blaise. She told him, and he stopped walking, turned towards her sharply, and looked her straight in the eyes._

_"Excuse me?" He asked her. _

_All of a sudden, a flood of embarrassment washed away all of Blaise's previous confidence. Draco's eyes suddenly seemed like daggers, they were piercing her and peering into her soul. She didn't like the tone of his voice either, harsh and ragged. Why did he sound angry? This wasn't going the way she had anticipated. What had she been thinking, pouring out her whole bloody heart like this to him? Did he actually want her to repeat her entire love soliloquy again? And when he had _that _expression on his face? All of these thoughts were popping up in Blaise's head from nowhere. They jumbled together and jostled each other, confusing her so much that her mind was wiped blank. She felt like screaming. She was going to start crying. Any minute, an ugly, hurtful lump was going to appear in her throat. _

_Draco must have noticed this. "Look," he said, this time softening his voice a little. "Look Blaise, I'll just tell you straightforward. I can't feel the same way for you. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to love you like that." _

_Blaise wasn't exactly sure what emotion was displayed on her face, but she knew it betrayed her. _

_Draco probably noticed this also. "Blaise, I can't feel that way for you… I mean, I know you don't understand why, but please believe me, and…" For once, he was struggling to find the right words. "Someday you'll know why, I promise you, but not now."_

_Right then, she felt it- the lump made it's presence known in her throat. She had two options: swallow it (very painful) or allow it bring tears (embarrassing her further and forcing a loss of self-composure)._ 'Come on Blaise,'_ she had thought to herself._ 'Pretend you're Millicent. She would never make herself look weak in front of a boy.'

_But nothing worked, and Blaise's eyes welled up._

_Draco looked awkward now. "Please, Blaise, please don't cry. I… I love you, just… in a different way. I really care for you, it's just- it's not in the way you imagine." _

_A tear slid down her cheek. It was so sweet, Draco breaking down all of his well-constructed layers just to show her he cared, but she couldn't handle it then, not on top of the rejection. _

_He tried to touch her arm, but Blaise backed away. He stood there awkwardly for one moment, then turned around and walked towards the common room. _

_When she was sure he was gone, she let a thousand tears streak down her face,they welled up from her bitter embarrassment and her utter shame in herself. The dungeon corridor was suddenly cold, and Blaise shrank down against a wall and cried till her head hurt. When she was done, she walked back to the common room to her dormitory, crawled into bed, and fell into a sleep, dreaming of nothing. _

_It took months after that to reestablish a normal relationship with Draco again. Rejection is like removing a single block from the bottom of a toy block building. A small concept, but the effects are strong and long-lasting. _

* * *

"Class! There is no need to talk once you enter my classroom. Immediately take your seats, we have much to do today."

Blaise had the feeling that Snape had been eagerly and evilly anticipating this day from the moment this formidable project idea took root in his brain.

Her palms were sweaty. She was nervous beyond all belief. Blaise wished she had feigned sick this morning rather than stepped foot in this Potions classroom and receive what she was positive would be her death sentence.

Snape's mouth curved upward into what one could only deem a wickedly joyous smile. Blaise felt sick. All around her, fellow Slytherins were putting on their game faces, sporting uniform, evil smirks. Pansy, Millicent, Draco- every single one looked relatively excited. Blaise felt like a giraffe in a room of dwarves.

Snape continued his speech.

"You all know that you will be assigned your year-long Potions project partners this class period. I have ensured that each of you is paired with a classmate you are not very well acquainted with." He flashed a sarcastically kind smile to both ends of the room- Slytherin and Gryffindor. "I do hope that this project will help to eliminate some of the hostility between two extremely competitive Houses such as yourselves. If you are not able to work together agreeably, then this certainly will be a long year," he finished slowly, accenting every syllable, just in case someone missed his meaning.

Which was, basically, Gryffindors would be paired with Slytherins and vice-versa. The little flicker of hope Blaise once had of being partnered with a fellow Slytherin dwindled away.

"So without further ado," Snape said, conjuring a parchment from his desk with a flourish, "Here are the pairings."

They proved to be as terrible as Blaise had imagined. Millicent was stuck with Neville Longbottom ("So much from raising my Potions grade," she grumbled before stomping off to a terrified looking Longbottom), Pansy was paired up with Potter, and Draco was partnered with Hermione Granger (at this announcement, Draco let off a series of expletives under his breath).

"Ms. Zabini," Snape called, at last arriving to the last name on the list. "You will work with Mr. Weasley," Snape proclaimed in a tone full of spite.

Blaise's heart pounded in her chest, and the feeling of sickness in her stomach did not abate in the least. She watched him stand up with his bookbag and walk over to Blaise's table. She noticed he was slightly red in the face, though not red enough to match the vivid color that was his unruly mess of hair.

He sat down awkwardly and looked at her defiantly, as if she had said something offensive to him, although neither had uttered a single word to the other.

After the pairs were assigned and seated, Snape came around to every pair and gave them a sheet of parchment that contained the details of the project and the potion each group was to make.

When Blaise looked at the sheet, she saw the name of the potion- _Aestifer_. She had no idea what that was. She silently handed the sheet to Weasley, who looked at it with unrestrained bewilderment.

"Do you know what it means?" He asked her indignantly, without reference to what the "it" was.

"You mean, do I know what the name of the potion means?" Blaise was impressed with how cool her voice sounded.

"Yes, that would be what I asked," he replied haughtily, as if she were stupidnot tounderstand.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Blaise retorted, her frustration mounting. "I couldn't understand your question." She wasn't at all sorry and she said it with fake sincerity.

Ron just raised his eyebrows disbelievingly. "So, do you know what the potion is or not?" He asked again.

"No. I don't," Blaise said in defensive tones. "Why? Do you?"

This had to be the most immature conversation she had had in a long while, but Weasley was making her irritated.

He glared. "No."

"Well, then one of us had better look it up. And another should find an appropriate counter-potion."

"Um, we have a slight problem there," he pointed out in a smart-aleck tone. "Until we can figure out what our potion is, exactly."

Blaise glared at him_. Do I look stupid to him? Why is he treating me like I'm a five-year-old? I know what to do, I'm a big girl, I can figure out the obvious. That's the problem with Gryffindors. They always assume things about you, they judge you before they get to know you. _

She decided to make a move towards getting something done. "Alright, when do you want to meet?" She asked him.

"Don't know," he said. Might as well have said "I would rather not," but that would be impossible. "How about 7:00 on Wednesday nights."

It wasn't much of a question, more like a statement.

"Well, we're going to need more time to work on this than just once a week," Blaise stated matter-of-factly. "What about Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at seven in the library?"

She then realized what she had said. Three days a week? Was she out of her mind? She just digged her own grave.

Weasley once again raised his eyebrows. "Alright, but let's make it as quick as possible. Seven to eight, would you say?"

"Sounds good," Blaise finished quickly. _Anything to get this over with._

The rest of their time was spent in an agonizing silence. When Potions ended, Blaise felt relief wash over her like water quenching the thirst of a man who has wandered through a desert for a few weeks.

But she didn't know how she was going to survive the next year.

* * *

Review and I'll give you chocolate! Or you can review to make my day. But please... review! 


	4. The Aestifer

**Disclaimer: Still own nothing....  
Author Notes: **Sorry for the slight delay... These semester exams are starting to worry me... for my World History class there is so much information I don't even know where to start studying! Sighs Ah well, hope you guys are having lovely, stress-free lives right now. HOpefully I'll be more efficient in posting the chapters.. I have a lot written, but typing them up just makes me late, because I have a chronic Five Minutes Late syndrom. I'm five minutes late for everything, and it's no joke. But anyways, enough about me, onto the story!

Sidenote: Also, I have decided to change the category of this story from Romance to Romance/Tragedy. Because of the end I have planned, it's sad, but happy at the same time.

Enjoy!

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**Finding Gray**

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"_Are we moving in the motion of the crowd now  
Slowly losing everything we were about now  
Is it time to draw a line in the sand now  
And take a stand now"_

_-"Numb" by Tait_

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Chapter Four: The Aestifer

That night at quarter to seven, Blaise packed up her Potions books and set out for the library. Students were mulling through the hallways and corridors, chatting incessantly and heading towards different common rooms. Blaise walked slowly to the library, wanting to prolong the time till she had to meet Weasley.

The red-headed boy was so enigmatic, always hidden in the shadow of famous Harry Potter, always intellectually shaded by brainy Hermione Granger. Blaise asserted that it must be difficult to have friends like that, who were naturally shoved into the spotlight, though by no fault of their own. Blaise also knew, from certain sources (Draco) that the Weasley boy was only one of a numerous amount of Weasley kin, all of which having red hair and some special skill they were well-recognized for.

For indeed, how could Blaise have forgotten that one stuck-up Weasley who became Head Boy and strolled through Hogwarts as if he were Merlin himself? Then there were those two devilish pranksters, who constantly engendered chaos in the school with their practical jokes and their infamous departure two years ago. Blaise had never really noticed Ron actually existed until this year- bumping into him and becoming his partner for Potions. It was interesting, in a disconcerting kind of way, to open your eyes and discover people who have been in class with you your entire life- or so it seems- yet you never notice them.

There are some human beings who draw attention towards themselves by just breathing. They attract this attention unintentionally, it happens because nature deems it so, just like it's natural that water turns to ice at freezing temperatures. Then, opposite these extroverts are the quiet, sensible, often smart, and shadowed by the people they surround themselves with. Blaise could relate to this category, and she had a fair guess that Ron could too.

Upon finding Weasley in the library, she went off in search of a book that would tell them exactly what their potion was. Once this was done, they could go off in search of the appropriate counterpotion.

Blaise found an entry on the Aestifer Potion in Advanced Potions and Concoctions for Magical Healing. She brought it back to the table where Ron was scribbling something on a piece of parchment.

"Alright," she announced. "I've found a book that has it's description, even though it doesn't have the instructions for making it."

Blaise proceeded to read:

**Aestifer Potion- This concoction can be a marvelous mixture for providing warmth to the human body or to liquid. It is very practical; however, this potion can be dangerous, torturous, and fatal if not properly administered. **

**One drop of Aestifer is all that is needed to accomplish a moderate warmth. **

**Two drops: Best used only in critical conditions or extreme cases. If used improperly, two drops can lead to heat exhaustion. This amount of potion will make water begin boiling. **

**Three-Four drops: Can result in moderate to extreme heat exhaustion. **

**Five of more is usually too much, and can be brutal torture and lead to death. **

"Ugh! This sounds terribly gruesome!" Blaise said aloud when she was finished reading the text.

"I think it's kind of interesting," Weasley commented, although this tone was slightly accusing.

"Interesting, yes, but it sounds completely dangerous. If I were a healer I would be positively frightened to feed this to any patient for fear of killing them!"

"It's almost like poisoning," Weasley agreed. "Only with better torture capacity."

Blaise thought this was slightly barbaric. But then she studied him. He seemed agreeable enough to have a pleasant conversation with when she took away the fact that he was a Gryffindor.

And the two had almost had a pleasant discourse; actually approached that barrier of difference that restrained them from conversing together with a general sense of kindness. But then centuries of hate and prejudice reared it's ugly head and the world as it was fell back into place and they both remembered exactly who they were: Slytherin and Gryffindor.

There was a silence.

"Uh…" Ron said charmingly.

"Well…" Blaise said at the same time, with no lack of wittiness.

Even Slytherins and Gryffindors alike hate that dreadful occurrence called The Awkward Silence.

"Uhm… I suppose that we should get the instructions on how to make the Potion, then…" Ron said.

"Except for I highly doubt that the recipe will be anywhere but the Restricted Section, this being a deadly potion and all," Blaise stated.

"You're probably right."

"I think so."

"But, uh… who do you suppose should ask Snape for the signature?" Ron asked carefully. "Because I really don't think he'd want to give it to- well… me."

Blaise raised her eyebrows.

"What makes you think he would be willing to give it to me?" Blaise knew the reason perfectly, but there was something alluring about making Weasley state the obvious; just to make him uncomfortable.

"You know why," Ron retorted. "Everybody knows why."

"I don't," Blaise said, just to aggravate him.

"Oh, I think _you, _of all people, know," he scowled.

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Fine!" Blaise yelled angrily and stood up. "You look for the counterpotion, and I'll get the stupid signature."

"Deal," Ron said harshly.

Blaise sat down again, slightly calmer now, pulled out the book again, took a piece of parchment, and began taking notes of the Aestifer. Ron stood up and began his quest for a counterpotion.

'_He could have looked in this book,' _Blaise thought. '_After all, it does have suggested counters right underneath the description.' _Out of the kindness of her heart, she was about to tell him, when she realized she didn't know what to call him: Ron or Weasley? The former sounded too casual, like they were friends or actually liked each other. No, Slytherins and Gryffindors definitely did not maintain first-name relationships. But Weasley? That always seemed like a thing guys did- call each other by their surnames. Why was this so confusing? Blaise decided not to call him anything.

"Um, there are counter potions in here," Blaise managed to get out before Ron had stravaged out of sight.

He turned around and slowly walked back to their table. "Oh… um. Alright," he said, sitting down again.

They worked in uneasy silence for a few minutes, when Blaise tried talking to him again.

"Look. I'm sorry I was being annoying earlier," she began. "But it's going to be a very long year if we keep concentrating on the fact that we're enemies."

Ron raised his eyebrows as if saying "Duh".

She continued anyways. "So I think that we should try not to fight, at least not when we have to be together to work on this."

He looked at her for a while, as if gauging the sincerity behind her proposal. After a while, he seemed to come to a conclusion. "Alright," he said. "I can handle that."

"Good," Blaise said, then took a breath and focused again on her work.

And like that, The Awkward Silence disappeared and they worked in quiet, taking notes and occasionally asking a question until the library closed at 8:30.

* * *

With all of the changes and fluctuations of life, Ron depended on one thing to remain constant. This was the ability of Slytherins to be as malicious as possible and full of taunting remarks at all times, alone or in groups. 

So why didn't Blaise Zabini live up to this expectation?

It was useless to pretend she didn't know about his dirt poor family- after all, there were six of them, and all with red hair. Nor was she unaware of the fact that his best friend was Harry. Blaise hung out with Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson- that crowd- and they made sure that Ron's life was as close to Hell as possible.

But she never made any comments. Zero. She acted defensive though, as if he had said something assaulting to her, and she was just protecting herself. Ron supposed this was plausible; she obviously thought that he was going to do or say something cruel, and without her friends around, she wouldn't be able to do anything to stop it.

Just like a typical Slytherin.

* * *

Friday morning dawned clear and cold, the sun showing it's face but not radiating her heat for the world to feel. The weekend was held suspended in the air. One more day of classes and the first week of Blaise's last year at Hogwarts would come to a close. 

Breakfast was the same as usual: Pansy grumbling about a hideous pimple that had sprung up on the tip of her nose overnight. She was constantly asking Millicent and Blaise if it really looked beastly, to which they adamantly repeated that "No, it was not beastly" (it was), and that she looked "perfectly fine" (the pimple made her look like Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer). Millicent was talking endlessly about how Theo Nott had agreed to go to the first Hogsmeade trip with her, and Draco was sullenly glaring at the Gryffindor table. It was, in all aspects, an ordinary morning.

"Honestly," Pansy continued her pitiful questioning of everyone in sight. " Honestly, I don't think you guys are telling me the straight truth," she whined. "I need a guy's opinion." She turned to Draco. "I really need you to tell it to me straight. Is this pimple completely hideous?"

Pansy was pointing to the big, ugly, red splotch that was currently taking up her entire nose, but Draco was still shooting dagger glares at the Gryffindor table.

"Uh, Draco?" Pansy tapped his shoulder, taking his eyes away from it's target. "What's the matter with you this morning?"

Draco narrowed his eyes and looked back at the enemy's lair. "Mudblood," he growled.

"What?" Pansy asked. "Isn't she _always_ bothering you?"

"She's my partner for Potions," he said, as if they didn't already know. "And I have to meet her tonight to work on the project. I mean, Friday night! Of all the nights in the world, she has to pick Friday! Who does schoolwork on Friday nights?" He was close to shouting. "Bloody Granger," he muttered.

"At least you aren't paired up with Longbottom," Millicent complained. "At least Granger has brains, she can do all the work and you'll still get a perfect score. Longbottom can't brew a potion if his life depended on it. Now I've got to do all the work," she grumbled.

"Well, you're a lazy slob anyways Mill," Pansy drawled in a teasing tone. "But we still love you."

"At least Longbottom isn't an insufferable know-it-all who questions your superiority as a Pureblood," Draco shot back with vehemence. "She's going to lord all of her ugly brains over me- it'll be bloody war. She can't go a minute without telling someone what to do. Look at Potter and the Weasel. She's got them eating out of the filthy palm of her Mudblood hand."

Blaise flushed at Draco's biting words. He continued his rant.

"Well, if she wants to play cat and mouse, I'm game," he said, still glaring at Granger, who was busy in a conversation with Weasley. "I'll show her who is boss," Draco finished stubbornly.

They continued complaining about their Potions partners, everyone except for Blaise speaking up.

"What about you Blaise? You got stuck with Weasley," Pansy pointed out in a disgusted voice. "That's just as bad as Potter and Granger."

"Not likely," Draco muttered moodily.

What about Weasley? Blaise truthfully didn't know what to say about him, besides the obvious fact that he was a Gryffindor. She didn't feel like saying that being around Ron evoked only a climate of awkwardness, nothing more, nothing less. Blaise realized that she didn't hate him, per se; at least she didn't experience this vaulted degree of dislike that her friends always illuminated when describing Gryffindors. There wasn't hatred, she knew, and was fairly certain Weasley knew also. Blaise was only aware of the awkwardness between them.

"Um, it's pretty bad," she tossed in an detached manner.

"Weasley's a fool," Draco commented, for good measure.

"Well, I've only had one meeting with him so far," Blaise stated. "We're going to meet three times a week from here on out."

"Three times?" Millicent spluttered.

"I'll probably be meeting Granger every day of the week," Draco mumbled.

"Merlin Blaise, you're an angel," Pansy said with awe. "How can you handle being around him?"

"She didn't choose to be his partner, Pan," Millicent pointed out. "I guess you _are _right- I am lazy. Longbottom and I haven't even decided when to meet."

"Join the club," Pansy threw right back. "And I'm expecting Potter to make the first move. Draco, will you _please _stop glaring at Granger like that? It's starting to creep _me _out."

* * *

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